


Along Came a Spider

by LonghornLetters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Arachnophobia, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonghornLetters/pseuds/LonghornLetters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is fairly certain psychologists didn't include "being chased around the flat by your mad partner while he's trying to attack you with the object of your deepest phobia" as part of any exposure therapy plan he's ever heard of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Along Came a Spider

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this from a post on Anotherwellkeptsecret's Tumblr. The visual of this wouldn't leave me alone, and this is the result. Enjoy.

“John?”

“Ugh…it’s too early for this,” John mumbled. He buried his face in the pillow and pulled the duvet up over his head. Even though he tried hiding, John knew he was merely delaying the inevitable. Sure enough, bare feet came slapping across the hardwood and a surprisingly substantial weight settled across his back.

“John.” John wiggled his head and shoulders from where he was lying underneath Sherlock to indicate he was awake. “John, there’s a spider in the bathtub.” 

“…Yeah?” John failed to see the issue and attempted to rebury his head in the pillows. The scent of Sherlock’s overpriced, designer shampoo mingled with his own bargain brand and their laundry soap to create a warm, homey cocoon, even with Sherlock squashing him into the mattress.

“I need a shower.”

“Okay?” He still couldn’t tell where this conversation was tending, but it wouldn’t be a total loss if he could somehow turn the tables on the limpet currently draped across his back and score an early morning cuddle out of this.

“You,” Sherlock shifted and settled more comfortably against John. This, he realized, was Sherlock about to ask a favour. “You have to get rid of it.”

“Why?” This was just too much.

“You just have to.” Sherlock let a note of pleading creep into his voice as he nuzzled between John’s shoulder blades.

“Sherlock,” John laughed in disbelieving shock, “Don’t tell me you’re frightened of sp-”

“JUST do it.” He buried his face in between John’s shoulder blades and John would have missed his next word if he hadn’t felt it vibrate against his skin, “Please?”

“Oh, alright, but I expect adequate compensation for this, you know.” John heaved himself over and Sherlock rolled off and onto the bed. He smiled over his shoulder at the consulting arachnophobe as he headed for the bathroom to do battle with the no-doubt terrifying beast that lurked in the tub. 

Grabbing a tissue from the box sitting on the back of the toilet tank, he peered into the tub. The spider that he found skulking in their bath was barely the size of his little fingernail. John didn’t notice any markings that would suggest any sort of harmful venom, so he did what any rational adult would do; he squashed it with the tissue and tossed it in the loo.

~~*~~

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock said from where he was sat cross-legged on the bed swaddled in the bed sheet while he flipped idly through his phone. He looked up as John came back into the bedroom, “Why are you holding your hand like that? Did it bite you?”

“No. I brought it out here to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of. Think of it as exposure therapy.”

“John, no, don’t bring that in here,” Sherlock threw his phone down and started scooting backward across the bed away from John and his left hand that was currently clutched against his chest.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to be afraid, it’s just a tiny little thing,” John said trying to stifle his laughter as he came to perch at the edge of the bed. Sherlock had now reached the far side of the bed and he stood up and proceeded to gather the sheet around himself like armour.

“Size doesn’t matter. It’s still a disgusting thing with too many legs and eyes.” By this time, Sherlock was edging around the foot of the bed as if to make a bid for escape, but John was tracking him like a predator that’s scented easy prey.

“Oh, come on, it’s just one little spider. I’ve been holding it all this time and I’m fine.”

John extended his closed fist towards Sherlock, who pressed his back tightly against the wall to keep as much distance as possible between himself and the object of his fear encased securely, for now, in John’s hand. John laughed as he pulled his hand back and shook his head ruefully at the fact that such a consummate scientist wouldn’t even try to confront his fear in a controlled environment.

Sherlock took advantage of John’s momentary distraction and threw down his sheet and took off running for the lounge.

“Oi!” John jumped up and sprinted after him. He paused in the kitchen next to an overturned chair to regroup and plan his next move.

“Flush that _bloody thing_ down the toilet,” Sherlock shouted from where he had squeezed himself into the far corner of the lounge between the bookcase and the knickknack shelf.

John stepped over the downed chair and began stalking towards the cowering detective.

“No, John, _don’t_!” Sherlock held up a hand to ward John and his spidery menace off

John’s first step into the lounge proper caused Sherlock to screech at a pitch that people would normally use to train dogs and catapult himself through the space between the Corbusier and the desk. He raced for the sofa, but just when he made it to the apex of his arc around the desk, John jumped forward in hot pursuit and threw his hand toward Sherlock’s face.

“ _AAAHHH!_ ” Stumbling back over the coffee table, Sherlock continued shrieking as he climbed onto the couch and rolled himself into a tight little ball covering his head with his hands.

While Sherlock cowered on the couch, John collapsed next to him laughing hysterically.

“Oh, Sherlock, my hand was empty!” John gasped through his giggles. “Surely you had deduced that.”

“No, I hadn’t,” came the muffled, indignant reply from under Sherlock’s arms.

“Oh, my God, that was the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages. Your _face_!” John let his head loll back against the sofa as his mirth finally began to subside. Looking over at Sherlock, he saw the detective still curled up defensively, but he did notice one grey-green eye peeking up at him timidly from between elbow and fringe. That only served to set him off again, and John leaned his elbows on his knees while he laughed until his stomach hurt and he could feel his cheeks straining against the continued stretch.

Sherlock grunted petulantly and reached over and pushed John’s shoulder, “It’s not that funny, John.”

“It is, though. You’re so observant, and you couldn’t _tell_ my hand was empty? This should go on the blog, Little Miss Muffet.”

“Yes, please do enshrine this morning’s activities right next to the solar system and all the rest of the things you see fit to tell people to make sure they ‘know I’m human.’”

John blushed, momentarily abashed, “That wasn’t what I meant.” He leaned over and wrapped his arms around Sherlock who slowly began to unroll himself. “I won’t put it up there. You’ve got to admit, though, this is right up there with your blind spot for Greg’s name in terms of ridiculousness.”

“Not really, John,” Sherlock replied with an accompanying eye-roll but a much more telling lean into John’s embrace. “Phobias and unimportant information don’t quite rank the same, you must admit,” he mumbled against John’s shoulder.

“Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. Hudson poked her head around the door before John could frame an appropriate response. “What’s all this shouting about so early in the morning? Gave me such a shock.”

With a glance at Sherlock who was currently letting his head rest on John’s shoulder as his eyelids began to droop (when was the last time he’d gotten more than a couple hour’s worth of sleep?), John squeezed him closer and smiled at their landlady and said, “Nothing to worry about.  Just an experiment with exposure therapy gone awry. Clients bring in some of the daftest problems.”

“Oh, well, if that’s all. How about a nice cuppa since you’re both awake?”

Mrs. Hudson turned to go prepare the offered drinks, and John nodded, “That’d be lovely, thanks.”

By the time she made it back upstairs carrying a tray complete with tea, toast, and jam, both John and Sherlock were sound asleep on the couch in a tangle of arms and legs. She smiled as she deposited the tray on the kitchen table before closing the lounge door quietly behind her as she left.

Meanwhile, a solitary spider spun its web into a corner of the lounge window, unaware of the havoc it would cause if a certain detective ever noticed.

**~~END~~**


End file.
